Why me?
by typicalRAinbow
Summary: Oneshot, set before the film. After his parents tell him the news, Victor storms off to his bedroom and ponders on why he has to get married to the girl across the street.


Corpse Bride and everything belongs to Tim Burton. I just wrote the story. A HUUUUGE thank you to "a first-class grammar/spelling nitpicker" Cascaper for fixing the mass debry of bad spelling and grammer that I/the spellchecker missed!

Edit: And also a massive thank you to Jim B. for helping edit this so it reads better story wise :D

_(A/N: Victors thoughts are Italics just to clear that up before you start reading.)_

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* * *

_Victor slouched down onto his bed and sighed. Thanks to his parents, he only had three weeks, _no wait, two weeks and five days_ of freedom left. Well, if you could call it freedom. _How dare they? Of all the..._

Victor swung his long, spindly legs on to the matrus and lay back on the pillows, so he was staring up at the ceiling. If this plan wasn't his mother's most ridiculous idea yet to gain status yet, then he would eat his sketch book, cover and all. Gazing up at the wooden beams above his head, Victor pondered on the upcoming events his parents had planned. What probably annoyed him most was that it had all been arranged three days before his parents had even told him, right before the guests for Mother's party had arrived.

"Just so you're prepared and you don't hear any wild rumours or get asked any awkward questions tonight, son." His father had started. _Why me? Why today?_

Victor turned to face his window. The late autumn sky was still tinted with the colours of sunset, even at this hour. A smile flickered across his face before rolling over and burying his face in to the pillow. _The only colour in this village and everyone would rather be inside socialising than see it. _Well everyone except the Everglots, who sent their apologies that morning. _Everglot... _Victor thought. What a funny name.

He didn't know her first name. He wasn't even sure whether he'd even seen her before, let alone met her face to face or spoken to her. _Of all the days to tell me on, though._ Victor rolled over on to his stomach to block out his own thoughts.

Unfortunately, he realised too late that he was too close to the edge of the bed and fell smack on to the floor. Cursing his own stupidity Victor staggered to his feet, before sinking down on to the stool by his desk. _Some party this was turning out to be_, he grimaced, rubbing his now throbbing forehead.

He'd been told the 'brilliant' news, he'd run to his bedroom, bolted the door and had childishly refused to come out despite his mother's protests. She'd given up as soon as the door bell rang but at least his father had stayed for a few brief minutes trying to talk him into showing his face.

"At least for your mother's sake, Victor." He'd pleaded, before the said-dragon dragged him downstairs to meet the honoured guests.

Victor closed his eyes and tried to remember a time when neither parent had cared for parties and propriety. _Probably before Father became wealthy?_ When Mother and Father were just Papa and Ma. When Papa had ran a small fish-mongers' that'd belonged to his grandfather, living above the shop, with Scraps barking at their heels.

Victor glanced up at the small painting hanging on the wall above his books. A small, bewildered boy stared back, while a grinning, daft-looking dog with a bright red collar stood at his side. _So much has changed since then... and not really for the better_. Scraps had always listened to him, from his little fears about skeletons in the closet, to secrets of treasure, conkers and other silly innocent things that Victor still missed about being a child. _Children don't get married to a total stranger, that's for sure_. But now he couldn't talk to anyone. The familiar empty feeling of loneliness wrapped itself around his chest. The thought having to get married made his head swim.

Why his parents couldn't have just offered the Everglots a loan, rather than his hand in marriage, he'd never know._ Not that it's really a surprise. After all, Mother's desperate for status. Why say you're payin__g aristocracy whe__n she can be related. Or be in-laws even. . Mother...she's going to be in-law to an aristocrat...mother...in-law…Oh God!_

A terrible thought had slipped in to his mind, one so terrifying, that with a yelp, Victor suddenly fell off his stool.

_Mother in law._

Oh good lord, he'd have her, HER as a mother-in-law, no, a MONSTER-in-law. Old Lady Hawk-eyes as the little school children called her, as they scurried past, telling each spine-tingling yet silly tales of witches, murders and other made-up rumours of what supposedly happened in the dusty old house.

_Another reason for me not to get married,_ Victor noted as he set straight the toppled stool and perched on it once more. _The last thing I'd ever wish for out of a marriage would be the wicked stepmother's evil sister to be casting spells at me and cursing me to spend an eternity in a tower_…He let the small smile at his own wit help him escape his situation for a moment, before realising that it hadn't really make that much sense and if it did there was no one around to tell anyway.

Victor sighed and turned back to the window. Across the village square, the Everglot Mansion squatted, like some form of weird creature, dark and ugly. Although it wasn't as large as home, just looking down at it made Victor nervous, as though he'd stepped on the tail of some small yet dangerous animal, like a wild cat or a baby dragon even. Despite the fading sunset and light pouring out from Van-Dort manor, the opposite building was in darkness. Well almost. A faint, yellow light flickered from the second floor, towards the far side of the mansion. Victor could just make out a balcony and a set of bay windows from the dim light. _Which room is hers? Maybe that's her window...wait, stop it! Stop it, stop it, stop it!_

_Even if she is your wife-to-be_, Victor inwardly scolded,_ trying to guess which bedroom was hers is not going to solve anything! What if she were to see you, or you her?_ It would be preposterous to explain, not to mention downright improper and perverted. 

_Improper and Perverted. But still..._

Victor couldn't help wonder what she would look like. After all, he'd only just found out that the Everglots had a daughter. His mother had tried to reassure him that she was about his age and that he must've seen her about. Victor frowned, unsure of all the years living in this cramped little town, whether he had actually set eyes on her. But he must have done. She couldn't be inside all the time. After all she must go out for fresh air, at least occasionally. _Unless they keep her chained up in the celler and feed her on fish heads because she's a monster…_

Victor shook himself free of his silly thoughts. He wasn't looking forward to the... the... (he couldn't even think the word without becoming a bag of nerves) marriage, as it was, without convincing himself in to thinking his betrothed was the hunchback of Notre Dame! There should be no reason what so ever to believe that she'd be like that.

_Although,_ Victor thought to himself, _she was an aristocrat. And an only child as well_.  
Even if she did turn out presentable, what was to stop her being, well, a spoilt little snob? What did she do? What were her interests? Sons were meant to accompany their fathers on things like hunts and fishing, Victor knew that from experience, but what about girls? What did she do with her time?

He'd first seen Lord Everglot out hunting in the forest many years ago, with some other high class toffs, dressed all in tweed, his musket in hand. He'd looked, to Victor's amusement at first, like a stout toad with teeth. But as Victor watched, he learnt how frightening the upper-class could be. All the lords had been snobbish toward their beaters and loaders, but unlike the others, his lordship had shot anything that seemed to move and yelled at everything and everyone, especially when he missed whatever he was shooting.  
"Out of the way, you ninny!" and, "Stay still you four legged Moron!" seemed to be his favourite battle cries of annoyance.

Victor frowned at these memories. He couldn't imagine Lady Everglot would allow her daughter to follow in her father's footsteps, trashing though the undergrowth and waving firearms about. It seemed very un-ladylike in Victor's eyes, but then again, in Victor's eyes the aristocracy were mental. They seemed to love so called blood-sports and fished not for food or business but for the sheer hell of it! Miss Everglot was bound to have attended dozens if not hundreds of shooting parties._ I bet she even has her own gun collection..._

Again Victor winced, and shook himself free from his thoughts. He was being silly. He needn't make the situation worse by believing she'd be a full-blown version of her father. _The hunch-back idea was more believable._

Anyway, he'd only seen his Lordship out hunting. No-one could be that rude in real life could they? Maybe he just got over-excited over the hunt._ After all, Mother gets excited over curtains,_ Victor yawned. It seemed to have been a long day, even though he could only remember the dispute with his parents that could have been perhaps minutes or hours ago.

Victor imagined what it must have like for Miss Everglot to have found out. All three of them sitting round the fire in the parlour. She would be sewing or reading maybe, her concentration only broken at the sound of her mother suddenly addressing her, or her father standing up and clearing his throat. Victor tried to picture the look on her face, (_which_, he supposed, _would a lot easier if I knew what she looked like._) Had she been happy, or in shock when she'd been told? Was she angry and now harboured a mild annoyance at being used as pawn to win back her parent's financial security? Maybe that was how she found out, having her parents suddenly spring it on her? Or did she actually know yet? Had she been told or were they waiting until the day itself to tell her?

Surely the Everglots wouldn't wait THAT long. She had the right to know that she was to be married. And Mother had said she was about his age. That would make her a young woman, probably around eighteen, seventeen at least. She needed to be told. After all, he was nineteen and should be allowed to have a say into his own marriage! _Should be…_Victor scowled again.

It wasn't as though he could knock upon her front door the day before the wedding and ask her, "You do know you're marrying me tomorrow, or have your parents never discussed it with you?"

_Wait, the day before?_ His mother had mentioned something about a rehearsal. Maybe he could use that time to get to know her

_…Or better yet, sign up for the Foreign Legion!_

Victor again groaned and undid the latch, throwing the windows wide open so that the cool breeze ruffled his mop of black hair. His papers and sketches flapped in protest but he didn't care, not tonight. Leaning out slightly over the sill, his weight supported by his desk Victor stared at the darkened building, wishing the 'beast' would rise up and swallow him whole.

He'd have to go through with it, _Father will never forgive me if I don't._ Besides, it wasn't as if he already had a sweetheart or anything to use as a reasonable excuse. _  
And people nowadays were always marrying for money and convenience rather than love,_ he thought, once again trying to make sense of any of the reasoning he had left on the matter only to find his attempts were in vain.

Dishearted, Victor propped himself up onto his elbows and rested his chin in his hand. Today was just not his day. _And what a day to announce it. _He sighed and looked up to a now blackened sky, the chalked light from the quarter moon failing to brighten his mood as he began softly singing to himself,

"Happy birthday to me..."


End file.
